No Fuel
by DoctorDo
Summary: A starving Decepticon has an encounter with Octane. Pre-Earth, Cybertronian, and the like.


He was starving, thirsty, and tired.

For hours Pedotube had wandered the unforgiving Bayren Desert of Cybertron, slowly losing more and more power as the twin suns beat down on his weary frame. He knew that he should have refueled before leaving the base, and now he was paying for his foolishness. It had been a relatively normal shift aside from the copious amount of deskwork he had completed prior. He hadn't recharged for a cycle or two, but he figured he could have handled the fatigue at least until his upcoming shift was over. Eager to prove his worth (and possibly deactivate some snooping Autobot scouts), Pedotube had neglected to consume his rations before punching in.

Pedotube's biggest weakness was his exaggerated belief in himself. He saw his body as something more than a generic, instead comparing it to that of Shockwave or even Megatron. He was also somewhat new off the assembly line, and thus had not been properly educated in exactly what the dangers could be in not keeping one's chassis up to code. Suffice it to say, he was getting a first-hand lesson right now.

The sounds of a plane engine cut Pedotube out of his thirst-inflicted shaming. He hoped it wasn't an Autobot, but at the same time he wished it was. It may have been embarrassing, but at least the hypothetical Autobot might have had the decency to put him out of his misery quickly and cleanly. Or it could be Whirl. Fragging Whirl.

The quick shifting noises of transformation followed by a heavy _whumpf_ sounded behind him, and he braced himself for a laser blast, or a sword erupting from his torso, or anything. . .

And then-nothing.

Until a snide voice squirmed its way into his audio receptor.

"You got a problem, friend?"

In that single sentence, so much malice was plainly delivered, hidden behind a thin veneer of kindness. Pedotube couldn't openly guess who the voice belonged to, but he got the feeling whoever was talking was a jerk.

A pair of off-white legs stepped into view. Pedotube forced himself to lift his gaze from the ground, and saw a flashing Decepticon sigil.

 _maybe he'll help me_

The 'Con was taller than Pedotube by at least 0.1 mechanometer. He looked higher and saw a cruel, angular face framed by a rich purple helm. Pedotube felt a foggy wave of joy wash over him. This was one of the only seventeen officers at his outpost he recognized at face value. Octane, the Decepticon chief fueler. Pedotube thanked Primus for sheer coincedence and tried to speak.

 _why is he smirking_

A dry, dusty sound exited his vocoder rather than words. Octane plainly saw this, and his smirk grew wider.

"You thirsty, Private?" Octane said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. Missing this, Pedotube nodded, in ecstasy of the possibility of making it out of the desert.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Octane projected an empty cube of Energon from his palm and reached up towards his wing-mounted fuel tanks. Pedotube watched as the intangible cube filled with life-giving purple fluid. Finally it was done, and Octane lowered the cube towards Pedotube. A brotherly, kind gesture, with a certain kind of strange stiffness to it.

Pedotube lunged hungrily at the cube, servos outstretched, only for Octane to jerk it away, chuckling.

"I'm sorry, that was my bad. You want this, yeah?"

Pedotube nodded.

"Then you gotta pay for it. Three thousand units, please."

Pedotube didn't have any units on his person or in his hyperspace pocket. Rather than anger, a wave of fright washed upon him. Seeing this, Octane's hideous grin only grew wider.

"Oh. You don't have any money. Well. That's a real shame, I-" He spilled the entirety of the cube's contents on the dry ground. "-would have _loved_ to have helped out a fellow Decepticon. Ah well. I guess you'll have to be a little parched a bit longer." Turning away, Octane closed his mouth, just barely, into his first smirk.

"Be seeing ya. Actually. . . I probably won't."

Cruel laughter rose into the sky along with Pedotube's only chance at survival. He didn't notice this, because he was busy trying in vain to scrape up the rapidly evaporating Energon from the ground.

He was starving, thirsty, and tired.

Thirsty. . .

Thirst. . .y

y

 **DEATH REPORT**

 **FROM THE FILES OF MASSACRE, DECEPTICON MORTICIAN**

 **Subject PE-0709 was found collapsed 450 megamiles out of the border of the Bayren desert. Although he was taken in by the Artillery Specialist who found him and given an internal injection, Subject had expired approximately thirty breems prior. Cause of death determined to be acute dehydration.**

 **NOTES:** _Energon's as rare as it comes already, and you give this punk an injection? What are you here for anyways, Medics?_

 _-Massacre_


End file.
